


tidings of comfort and joy (when we were gone astray)

by congratsyouvegrownasoul



Category: The Sopranos
Genre: Backstory, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Italian Mafia, Italian-American Character, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congratsyouvegrownasoul/pseuds/congratsyouvegrownasoul
Summary: Snapshots from Tony, Carmela, and Meadow's first Christmas.
Relationships: Carmela Soprano/Tony Soprano
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	tidings of comfort and joy (when we were gone astray)

Carmela is dancing, twirling, fluffy pink skirt whirling out around her, bare feet gliding over the freshly waxed floor. They’re in the old Knights of Columbus hall where she went to a father-daughter dance in the eighth grade, she and her dancing partner. His hands are warm on hers, he’s wearing a freshly pressed blue suit, and he has the head of a nice, handsome red snapper. 

“Hey, Carm? Oh, good, you’re awake.”

The odd dream still floating around in her head, she blinks in confusion. She’s half-upright, curled in the padded rocking chair in Meadow’s nursery. Dim, gray winter-morning light filters in through the windows, illuminating Tony leaning over her and tugging on her arm. 

“Oh, shoot, did I not come back to bed?” 

Meadow had woken up around four in the morning and promptly started wailing. Carmela had changed her diaper, cuddled and nursed her until she calmed down, then put her back in her crib. She’d planned on watching her until she fell back asleep, in case she needed anything else, but had apparently fallen asleep in the chair herself. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine, though. I only came and got you ‘cause, you know, it’s seven o’clock so it’s officially Christmas and we should get cracking on those presents.”

His happy, boyish little smile clears away the last dregs of her sleepiness, and she smiles back.

“You know, in a few years this little one is going to be climbing into our bed at the crack of dawn waking us up for presents.”

“I  _ always  _ wake up early on Christmas. I always wanted to get up before Janice ‘cause whoever got there first could sneak candy out of the other one’s stocking.” 

Carmela laughs. 

“Oh, you better not have been messing with the stockings this morning, I set up everything absolutely right.”

“I wouldn’t! I’m not gonna screw up all your plans.”

She has, admittedly, been a little obsessive the past few weeks. It’s her first Christmas out of her parents’ house, her first Christmas married, and Meadow’s first Christmas ever, so it has to be perfect. 

The little notebook where she keeps track of household expenses has pages full of neatly catalogued gifts--for her family, for Tony’s, and for their own new little family. She’d staked out the shops, put everything on layaway, and then ran the Christmas budget past Tony so he could get her all the cash she needed to buy everything outright. 

She’d weathered seemingly endless sniping between both sets of in-laws over who got to have them when, and finally carved out a peace treaty of sorts: Christmas Eve with Tony’s parents’, the big Christmas lunch after church with her own parents, and then a nice dinner at home tonight, just the three of them. 

Even though they’ll be with their parents for both of the elaborate Christmas meals, Carmela’s still flitted from market to market for her own shopping, loading up on panettone, peppermint sticks, and a lovely plump chicken she’ll roast for tonight’s dinner. 

After yesterday evening’s positively dismal Feast of Seven Fishes courtesy of Livia, which culminated in a dreadfully overcooked red snapper in flavorless tomato sauce that now apparently haunts Carmela’s dreams, she’s considering trying to do one of the big meals herself next year, and stave off the custody battles by inviting both sets of parents. With Meadow still so tiny, though, she supposes she’s grateful to not have had to do so much cooking this year. While she’s been housekeeping for nearly a year now she’s far from a practiced hostess.

Downstairs, their little house sparkles with tinsel on practically every surface, including the massive Christmas tree that Tony, his cousin Tony, and Silvio had dragged into the house the week before. It takes up half the living room, but it is certainly magnificent. Carmela’s found herself stopping to admire it every time she’s dusting and re-dusting the mantelpiece. 

Even overcome with the holiday spirit as she is, Carmela has to admit that Meadow is much too little to understand any of the celebrations or to remember them in the future. Still, they’re starting special family traditions for her, and it’s just as nice to watch Tony hum carols to himself while he hangs the stockings or happily pile a snowdrift of whipped cream on the hot chocolate she’s fixed him after work. 

He’d even accepted one of her cutesiest holiday purchases with only a few joking complaints, gamely pulling on the pajamas she’d bought him in the same plaid flannel as her own holiday nightgown. There was a tiny one for Meadow as well. They’ll all match in the many photos she’s planning on taking this Christmas morning. Carmela and her sister always used to have matching holiday nightgowns when they were little, with Carmela growing into her sister’s hand-me-downs. 

“Can you go get the camera, please, Tony? I’ll get her up.”

Meadow is a pretty light sleeper, and the sound of her parents’ voices has already got her stirring, rubbing pudgy little fists into her eyes. 

“Hi, sweetie, merry Christmas!”

She blinks and coos, rocking back and forth on her back a little. Two weeks ago, she had mastered rolling from her tummy to her back, and she seems to be trying her hardest to figure out the other way around. 

Maybe Carmela is biased, but she’s convinced Meadow is the prettiest and smartest baby she’s ever seen, and Tony agrees. She’d been a bit hurt at dinner the night before, when her mother-in-law had pointedly commented about Meadow’s fussiness. A fussy baby can grow up to be a willful child, if they’re not trained out of it, apparently, and according to Livia she should know because she had three of them.

Carmela’s seen pictures of Tony as a toddler, looking so cherubic it’s hard to imagine him being anywhere near as much trouble as his mother remembers. She can see traces of their own daughter’s sweet face in the old photos, and imagine how Meadow might look when she’s a little bigger. 

Carmela scoops Meadow up, resting her against her shoulder. 

“Let’s get you downstairs so Daddy can take pictures of us in front of the tree, huh?” 

Tony’s already taken a couple shots of just the tree and the stockings by the fireplace, but he adds several of Carmela holding Meadow before they switch so she can get some with him.

“Hold her so I can see her little face, okay? Yeah, that’s good.”

She takes one last picture, then puts the camera aside.

“Alright, you wanna pick out a present?” 

Tony plops down in an armchair, nestling Meadow carefully on his lap.

“How about you pick out one for her and I’ll help her open it?”

“I’ll get one for you too.”

Most of the presents under the tree are for Meadow or addressed to them as a couple, but Carmela easily locates a package she’d carefully wrapped herself to start off with. 

“Merry Christmas, Daddy. Love, Meadow,” Tony reads off the label when she passes it to him. “Wow, I can’t believe our little girl is going shopping already.”

“I helped,” Carmela laughs. 

He grins and winks at her. 

“Well, Meadow, let’s see what you got me.” 

He tears off the star-spangled wrapping paper, revealing two photographs set in a silver frame. They’re from Meadow’s baptism--a closeup of her swathed in white lace and snuggled in a basket beforehand, and one afterwards of a beaming Tony holding his damp, somewhat bemused-looking daughter. 

“Oh, Carmela, wow. These are really lovely.” 

He pulls Meadow a little closer towards his chest and leans over to kiss Carmela on the cheek.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

“That’s my favorite one of her and my favorite of the two of you. I got a smaller copy printed of the one with just her, too, I figured you can put it in your wallet with the one from our wedding.” 

Meadow reaches out, brushing her fingers over the edge of the frame. Carmela bends over Tony’s shoulder and tousles her downy hair.

“Yes, sweetie, that’s you! You and Daddy.” 

“I didn’t get you anything that was supposed to be from her. Like a mom present or anything.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s fine. I just thought it was a cute idea to say it was from her ‘cause it was her pictures.”

He gestures to the tree.

“Plenty of stuff for you from  _ me _ under there, though.”

“I know, baby, you maybe went a little overboard. Not that I’m complaining. You wanna unwrap this for Meadow? It’s from Joanne and Christopher.” 

He laughs. 

“So, it’s from Joanne. I don’t think Chrissy knows the first thing about babies. He don’t even want to hold Mead’ hardly, remember him at the baptism?”

“Well, he’s an only child, Tony. He’s not used to it. Oh, look, that’s just darling.”

Tony’s unwrapped a little swimsuit, powder-blue and dotted with pink strawberries. 

“9-12 month size, she’ll grow right into it by summertime,” Carmela remarks. “What a nice idea, everybody’s been getting us winter clothes.” 

It’s brand-new with the store tags still on it, too, Carmela notes approvingly. Joanne doesn’t have a lot of money to spare, so the gesture is especially appreciated. 

They’ve been showered in hand-me-downs since Meadow was born, from all of their family friends who have older daughters. Carmela’s been gracious, of course, and some of the little outfits that used to be Teresa Bonpensiero’s or Melissa Barese’s are really rather pretty. Since little ones grow so fast and go through clothes so quickly, it saves money, and they’re just being helpful. On the other hand, Carmela likes picking out cute little dresses and onesies for Meadow herself, and it’s partially a point of pride for her. 

She remembers being teased over her hand-me-down dress during the very first week of sixth grade, a style that had become hopelessly outdated in the six years since her older sister Patty had worn it. She’d cried bitterly in the bathroom, shoved the offending dress into the back of her closet, begged her parents for cute new jeans, and then atoned for the sin of her vanity in confession the next Sunday. By the time Meadow’s old enough for her classmates to be aware of her clothes, Carmela’s going to make sure everything she has is shining new and perfect. 

Tony tosses the swimsuit softly to the floor, kissing Meadow on the forehead. 

“You’re gonna be a pretty little strawberry in your baby pool next summer, huh? Carmela, look over on the left, the two white ones with the green ribbons. You do those next.”

He hugs Meadow close to his chest, grinning in anticipation while he watches her open them. His happiness is infectious, so she’s already smiling even before she opens the small, flat box to find a beautiful silver-and-pearl bracelet.

“Oh,  _ Tony _ . This is gorgeous. Oh my God, Tony.”

“It’s from Tiffany’s, you just can’t tell ‘cause, you know, there’s no blue box.”

That means it could be worth a thousand dollars or more, which would be a ridiculous--if very flattering--amount for him to spend on a present for her. The lack of a branded box, on the other hand, means it’s probably stolen, so at least she doesn’t have to worry about him breaking the bank. Carmela slips the bracelet over her wrist and gazes at it admiringly.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful.” 

She holds her hand out for him to look at the bracelet, beaming, then leans in to shower him with a flurry of enthusiastic kisses. 

When she comes up again, Tony’s flushed and grinning. She runs a hand through his hair, frowning a little now.

“I feel a bit silly, Tony, your big present from me is a lawn mower.” 

He reaches up to grab her hand, his warm, broad fingers skipping over her shiny new jewelry and coming gently to rest, skin-to-skin. All of a sudden, his face is serious, the laughter fading from his face. 

“That’s why I do all the stuff I do, you know that. For you, and for Meadow. What’s the point if I can’t get you nice things?”

His eyes are fixed on hers, wide and dark and intense. 

Feeling at a loss for words, she looks down, wraps her arms tight around him, and gives him another kiss on the top of his head. 

“Not to mention,” he adds, humor creeping back into his voice, “our front yard looked like complete dogshit last spring, so you're right, I do need to mow it better. Hey, Carm, you’ve still got another box. Do the bigger one next.”

She turns back to the larger of the two white packages, sitting neatly on the carpet amidst a tangle of half-untied ribbons. The glossy white wrapping paper shucks off to reveal a box from Saks Fifth Avenue, then white tissue paper, then--

Carmela looks up at Tony, hands full of pale green silk, and gives him a tentative smile. 

“This is lovely too, sweetie.” 

It’s a set of undergarments, a filmy camisole and lacy panties, pretty and delicate and the sort of thing she would have normally cooed over if she hadn’t given birth just three months previously. As it is, the sight of it makes her feel a bit guilty. 

He almost certainly doesn’t mean it as a reproach, but she can’t help but take it to heart. Things have been different since Meadow arrived--well, really, since the tail end of her pregnancy--and new-parent sex is a lot less frequent then it ought to be for people who’ve been married less than a year. 

The good thing about being a young mother, Rosalie often says, is that your body bounces back a lot quicker. She’s right--most of the baby weight came off quickly, and it’s only the last five pounds that are being stubborn, while she slowly fights them off with the aerobics videos Ro introduced her to, and the stroller walks they used to go on in the park before the weather got so cold. 

Even with that, she’s not worried about Tony not finding her attractive. It’s just finding the time. He’s often home late at night from work, as is the way when a man is young, full of fire, and trying to prove himself. She tries to stay up for him after she puts Meadow to bed--he needs her attention just like the baby does--but sometimes she drifts off despite herself. In the mornings, he sleeps in while she’s up at the crack of dawn with Meadow, running on coffee and adrenaline. She tries not to hold it against him. 

At least he sleeps, now. He’d had a lot of trouble, the first month or so. Not so much because of Meadow’s crying, it seemed; in fact, it had started before she’d even arrived, about a week before Carmela went into labor. It was like he’d known, somehow, that she was coming, even though she’d been ten days before her due date. The whole week, he’d been restless, sometimes clinging to her, other times strangely distant. Even his happiness when Meadow was born, the peaceful joy they both felt holding her--it had been tempered by these flashes of discontent. At night, she’d wake up when Meadow cried out for her and found his place in the bed empty, with him downstairs in the living room, flicking through channels on a muted television. 

She could coax him back to bed, sometimes, and cuddle him until he fell asleep again, but sometimes she was only able to bring him a blanket and a glass of milk. He has bad nightmares sometimes, she knows, although he never wants to talk about them, and it seemed like they were worse then. But he was so happy whenever he was with Meadow--it couldn’t be because of her. She was so small, he’d told Carmela in wonder over and over, so perfect. How had he made this? 

Of course, Carmela would remind him, they’d made her together, this perfect little thing. 

Now, the perfect little thing, unaware that it’s Christmas and there are still dozens of presents to be opened, has realized it’s breakfast time and she hasn’t been fed yet. Meadow starts to wriggle around in her father’s lap, snuffling, her face beginning to redden. 

Carmela drops the lingerie back into its box, telling herself she’ll focus on the issue of their sex life later. She scoops up Meadow just as her little legs start kicking, her mouth opening in a prodigious wail. 

“She’s hungry, I usually feed her around this time. We’d better take a breather from the presents, okay, Tony?”

He nods, yawning and standing up now that Meadow’s no longer sitting on him. Carmela takes his place in the armchair, gently shushing Meadow and stroking her hair until she stops fussing and starts nursing. 

“You can go into the kitchen and get something to eat yourself if you want. I made muffins yesterday while you were lifting your weights in the basement and Meadow was napping. I thought it would be nice, for a Christmas treat. They’re cranberry-orange, look in the Tupperware on top of the fridge. If you’re still hungry I can make you some bacon and eggs after I finish this.”

He nods, but doesn’t move. 

“And, Tony, can you put the pot on for coffee? You might have some too, keep you focused during the Mass this morning,” she teases. “I know you don’t like it much, but it really does keep you going if you get up early, and you do like it a bit better with plenty of cream and sugar. Tony?”

He starts. 

“What?”

“The coffee pot, baby? Can you get it started? It would be a big help.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

Halfway to the door, he pauses, looking back over his shoulder at her.

“You look real pretty, you know.”

Carmela laughs. 

“You think I’m so pretty in my pajamas nursing our baby that you didn’t hear a word that I was saying? I don’t know whether to be flattered or confused.”

“No, I’m serious. You look all nice and sweet and soft, like a painting with a mother and her baby.” 

“Like Mary and baby Jesus? ‘Cause it’s Christmas? Oh, I shouldn’t make fun, Tony, that’s cute.”

“Yeah, pretty like a Christmas painting, I guess.” 

When he leaves, the door swinging shut behind him, Carmela looks down at Meadow, her small fingers curling loosely against the bare skin of Carmela’s chest. 

“Your daddy’s an odd duck, huh? But we love him, don’t we?” 

Meadow sighs a little, clueless and contented. Carmela rubs her back, falling easily into a gentle rhythm.

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas fic, which I've been writing on and off since July, published in September. It isn't seasonal, but it's sweet and soft and a little bit sad and I hope you enjoy some more Sopranos flashback/backstory fic. 
> 
> Title is from "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", the carol from which the Christmas episode of the show also takes its title. 
> 
> If it's not clear from Carmela's perspective, the reason Tony is having trouble sleeping around the time Meadow was born is because it's also when he first killed someone, as we learned in 6x15.


End file.
